Moose
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: Sam always felt awkward as a human. He was too tall, too loud, and he just really wanted some antlers, for goodness sake. Crackfic. A series of drabbles about our favorite moose.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _Because why not. Enjoy. -Jaq_

"Sammy, are you sure?" Dean Winchester said, swallowing hard. He placed a hand hesitantly on his younger brother's shoulder.

Sam nodded resolutely. "Yes. This-this is what I want. This is the right thing to do."

Dean sighed and looked away. "I'm gonna miss drinking beer with you, Sam," he choked out. Dean let his hand drop as Sam walked away into a small room.

•••

Inside the room, Sam took a deep breath. He pulled out a knife, and, gritting his teeth a little from the pain, made a small cut on his forearm. Blood ripped into a bowl. Sam quickly bound up the cut and started shaking things into the bowl. A pinch of this, a few drops of that, et caetera.

With a strong, clear voice, he spoke a few words of Latin, and the bowl blazed with a yellow light. Hesitating only for a second, Sam downed the potion.

It tasted bitter, and within a minute, the transformation began. Sam could feel himself double in size. His limbs grew longer and more knobbly, and his hair receded a little bit.

After two minutes, it was over. Done.

Sam was finally a real moose.

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_Review? It would make my day :)_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _Okay. I decided to continue; this was just too much fun. Enjoy. -Jaq_

* * *

"What did you say your name was again?"

Dean pulled out his badge, brandishing it with a flourish. "Agent Michael Radcliffe. Myself and my companion are going to need to ask you a few questions."

The woman nodded, looking past Dean at the large moose standing behind him. "Well, Moosy over there can munch on the begonias if she likes," she said kindly.

Said moose made an indignant moose noise, and Dean held up a hand to correct her. "The moose is a guy, and his name is Sam," he said firmly. "But I'm sure he would love to take you up on the begonias." Sam nodded furiously.

After the questioning (Dean thought it was probably just a ghost), Sam and Dean headed back to the police station. They now drove a bright orange pickup truck (Sam could no longer fit in the Impala).

Back at the station, Sam received no nervous glances, and why would he? He was minding his own business and not cutting anyone in line. There was only one guy, Brad, who questioned as to why there was a fully grown Canadian moose in the police station, but everyone knew that Brad thought they were all on drugs and thus didn't care about his opinion. No one cares about Brad's opinion.

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_TBC...maybe..._

_Review?_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Well, this was just too fun to pass up (and guest user Jenna asked me to so I thought why not). So here is the orange pickup truck story_.

* * *

Dean's fingers brushed lightly over the hood of his beloved Impala, his eyes sparkling with tears.

Sam made a moose noise.

"What are you trying to say?" Dean snapped, a little irritated at being shaken out of his rêverie.

Sam nodded towards the car. "MwowowoaooooooooOOOO!"

Dean scowled. "You can't fit in the car anymore, can you?"

Sam shook his head vehemently, his moose hairs swaying from side to side.

Dean felt a single tear trace down his face at the thought of driving any other car. Still, it had to be done.

He drove the black '67 Impala to the dealership, reveling in taking one last drive. This would be the end, probably.

The woman at the dealership was named Lillian. She was very impressed at the state of Dean's car.

Sam wanted a big orange pickup truck. Dean didn't want to argue any more. He didn't have the strength.

So they bought the orange pickup truck. Dean drove, Sam stood in the back. People didn't look twice at the moose in the back. After all, they had seen weirder things, probably.

As they drove away, Dean cried very loudly to mourn the loss of his car. It was sad.

Very sad.

Very, very, sad.

_Okay. I can't just have the Impala leave this story. So yeah, I'll bring it back, I guess. And there's a new thing! Review with something you want to happen in this story (I'm just doing stupid little oneshot drabbles) and I'll see what I can do! Review please! -Jaq_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _This chapter is for Hades, Lord of the Dead, who requested drunk!Moose!Sam. Beware: complete and utter crack to follow. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

"Yeah...I dunno, Sammy. I just wish we could still drink together, ya know?"

Sam shook his head, his antlers swinging around, and made a moose noise.

He waked over to the bar, overturning three small tables and a poodle.

"Ooouuuuuaaahhhh," he informed the bartender.

Try as he might, the bartender didn't speak Moose. But he got the idea.

"No glasses, eh?" he said in a thick New York accent. "Well, lucky for you, I got some bowls in da back. You want somethin' ta drink?"

Sam nodded vigorously.

The bartender winked and got out a wide bowl. He filled it to the brim with beer.

Sam drank it noisily and sloppily, but he did it. What he didn't know was that moose get drunk a lot easier than humans.

After his third beer, Sam tottered on four wobbly legs back to Dean, who was sitting next to an attractive young brunette.

"AAUUOO," Sam said wisely. He crashed into a table, sending it to the ground. Dean's eyes widened.

"Sam...are you drunk?!"

Sam nodded, nuzzling the table.

Dean cursed, but he was smiling. "Alright, let's...go back to the truck. We...have to get back to the motel." To the young woman, he said, "maybe some other time, Lil." He grabbed his glass of beer and headed outside, throwing a crumpled twenty on the table.

'Lil' pouted and waved goodbye. Dean guided Sam out the door and to the orange pickup.

Just one problem. Along the way, Sam started dancing. He swung his head back and forth, making his long fur swish back and forth. He began to stick one foot out, and then the other, in a rhythmic dance-type thing. Dean (who, it ought to be said, wasn't exactly sober) began to hum REO Speedwagon, slightly off-tune. Sam swayed to the beat, and Dean raised his glass high.

Brad was sitting in his car nearby, scowling at the moose who had currently wrecked no less than five cars with his antlers and inebriation.

Sam didn't want to go on the truck. He wanted to run wild and free, along with the wind and the beer fumes.

He sprinted ahead, hair blowing in the wind, and Dean followed behind in the orange pickup.

When they got back to the motel, Sam attempted to play beer pong in the common room with several young men, but he accidentally crashed the chandelier. The beer spilled on the floor (and Sam helped drink it up).

After the beer pong, Sam noticed the karaoke.

"AOOOOOUUUHOOOHUAH," he sang to the vague tune of Someone Like You. Dean stood in the back wondering what had happened.

Everyone clapped, because it turned out Sam had a very good impression of Adele, if Adele was a moose.

The end.

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A/N 2_: if you made it to the end of that rubbish, would you mind reviewing? I'll just sit here and listen to REO Speedwagon...requests are so welcome! Thanks for reading. _

_-Jaq_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _Ayyyy, guess which story is back in action? This chapter goes out to LeeMarieJack, who not only gave me some awesome prompts, reviewed, and was generally helpful in figuring things out, added this story to two more communities. So it's in three now! Which is pretty cool. Alright, enough blathering on. I know why you really clicked this link, and it wasn't to hear me drone on...enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

"Look, Sam, the pickup's...great. But it's just not my _baby_," Dean said vehemently, kicking the blaze colored car for emphasis.

Sam raised an eyebrow. Or something to that extent.

"Yeah, well, I don't care what you think. I'm older, I'm always right, and I need my car back," Dean snapped at him.

Sam made a moose noise. It sounded put out. Dean couldn't fathom why- Sam hadn't ever been adverse to the muscle car, and the pickup truck was...well, hideous.

Suddenly he realized the dilemma. "Damn," Dean muttered. "You can't fit in the car. That's why we," he shuddered, "got rid of her in the first place, isn't it. Dammit."

Sam nodded.

Dean looked stressed out. Sure, Sam was more important that the Impala, but...well...Sam /and/ the car would be nice.

"Get in the back, Sammy. We're driving back to that used car dealership. And we're doing it now."

The one nice thing about Sam being a moose and also being in the back of the car was that he could no longer complain about the music, and Dean could crank the volume.

And yeah, When The Levee Breaks needs to be loud, Dean decided. Soon, every car within a twenty foot radius was listing to Led Zeppelin along with him. It was fun. (And getting yelled at by a middle-aged soccer mom for having too-loud music? Hilarious.)

_Don't it make you feel bad _

_When you're tryin' to find your way home, _

_You don't know which way to go?_

Dean furiously air-guitared, happy once again now that he was about to get his car.

When they arrived at the dealership, Lillian wasn't surprised. "I mean, who the hell would willingly give up a '67 Chevy in that state? It's out back."

Dean was near crying (happy tears, happy tears) by the time he got to the car. He have it a hug.

"How's Mister Moose gonna fit?" Lillian asked, concerned.

Dean looked around evasively. "Ah, it's...a work in progress."

Lillian raised her eyebrows. "Right. My sister owns horses and they ride behind in a trailer. You could do that."

Dean looked at her as if Lillian was Albert Einstein, or Angus Young, or some other genius. "You," he said, quite seriously, "are a genius."

The next day, they had a horse trailer attached to the back of the Impala. It would seem that the souped-up eight cylinder engine came in handy, and Dean reckoned he could still go from zero to sixty in under five seconds.

The end.

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A/N 2: _Well, that was...interesting. Hope you haven't been plotting to kill me; I'm going camping. Until Thursday. When I shall post another Drabble. Until then..._

_-Jaq_

_(please review?)_


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